


Dressing in Layers

by Polina_K_Viardo



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Insight into Garak's work -- tailoring and otherwise, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 10:43:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8797717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polina_K_Viardo/pseuds/Polina_K_Viardo
Summary: Julian watches Garak make him a shirt and realises that there are more layers to vague and complicated than he's imagined.[18+: This is content restricted to audiences of 18 years or over.]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Rating M is only for having adult themes - there is no explicit content in the story. 
> 
> [18+: This is content restricted to audiences of 18 years or over. Do not read unless you are over 18.]

"Ah, my dear, but you misunderstand the nature of an intelligence service." Garak's hands straighten a cut of cream coloured cloth. The cloth is not plain -- Julian has been pointedly informed -- but understated. 

"Do you imagine it to be all about assassinations, suppressing of internal dissent, and intrusions into private lives of ordinary people? Really, Doctor. You don't see the forest for the trees." 

Garak frowns at the material as if he hasn't already planned the piece to a T. What a fraud.

"Was it not one of the human poets who said, 'If you want them to build a ship, teach them to yearn for the sea'?" The quote is imprecise but Julian stares fixedly at the fabric and avoids wincing. "That is what spies do -- they earn for the safety of their home. So many forces constantly work to compromise that safety..."

The fabric is measured and arranged, the sheer span of it all crossed with the bright marking lines. Garak insists that he's a tailor but it isn't true. 'Tailor' is a person who makes or alters suits, and Garak does more than that. 

"Think of the ships. Does it really matter what the ships are built of?" The cutter slices the cloth with a practiced ease. "What matters is whether the ship is afloat. To keep it that way one must plan for every eventuality and take necessary measures. Eliminating all possibilities of a shipwreck and lose of life onboard is essential to what is called good seamanship."  

The cloth is shaped, temporary adhesive in its seems binding the parts together. Garak is a clothier really -- not a tailor -- as he makes all kind of garments from scratch. 

And often enough out of whole cloth. 

Garak glances up from his work to throw grinning Julian an admonishing look. 

"The sea is unpredictable, and sailors better than anybody know how uncertain their presence is. How easily the boat can sink, vanishing in the deep." Metallic sides of sewing machinery glint in the soft light as Garak looks over the piece. "So they act accordingly." 

But making clothes is only a part of Garak's business. According to Quark, to keep a business afloat these days one has to be ahead of everything -- competition, research, advertisement, trade agreements…  

How come Garak has made them believe that keeping his shop is something any thug can do?

The piece -- a future dress shirt -- is put into one of the chambers for high-precision adjustments. Garak types in the code, and the fabric acquires durability, active layers to absorb sweat, protection from radiation. 

"Sometimes the best way to deal with the problem is to plan for it so far ahead that by the time it starts to become a problem it's already been caught in the net of countermeasures."

Julian takes the shirt and stares at it without seeing. Hasn't Garak been Tain's right-hand man? Would someone like that spend all his time doing wet work, out in the field?

Has Garak really convinced them all he is a plain, simple operative who has never had to deal with political strategising of the highest level? 

Julian gives up. 

"I think I'm stuck," he says sheepishly. The shirt has much more parts than he is accustomed to. How is he supposed to...?

Garak comes into the changing room, and several decisive tags later Julian's head is free. Garak undoes the first few buttons, straightens the collar.

The quaint measuring tape hugs Julian's neck, Garak's fingers almost touching his skin.

"Do you still practice this 'good seamanship' in your trade?" Julian asks.

Garak glances up, his lips thinned in a reproachful expression, as if Julian should know better. 

Julian holds his breath, still entangled in the shirt, as Garak's fingers glide along the tape. Then Garak looks up from under lowered eyelashes. 

There is a grin on his face. 

The tape around Julians throat tightens.


End file.
